


To show that I love you

by Thomas_Eastwood



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: 5+1 Things, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Tally marks au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomas_Eastwood/pseuds/Thomas_Eastwood
Summary: Every person is born with deep black tally marks tattooed on their skin. Each one represents the number of times a person can speak the words "I love you", independently of if it was true or not. Once the words are uttered, one of the marks will fade to gray until one day, you can no longer pronounce the words. As most things goes, society has built expectations and myths around this tally marks, and no one is under heavier scrutiny than royalty. When prince Laurent of Vere was born with only five tally marks on his wrists, his people catalogued him as a sociopath, incapable of love. It all got worse when he suddenly found himself an orphan and the next in line for the throne. How could he wrestle with the heavy prejudice that had been thrust upon him as he struggled to keep himself alive and take back his kingdom?ORFive times Laurent said "I love you", and the one time he didn't need to.





	1. The Dandelion

Walking through the gardens in the late afternoon was young queen Hennike’s favorite pastime. It had been like this since she arrived to the palace twelve years prior. 

At first, the flowers reminded her of the countryside, of home. It hadn’t been easy adapting from living on the borders of Patras, used to the wilderness, to found herself living in the busy city of Arles. But now, the queen had long settled on the capital as well as on her reign; carrying naturally with the responsibilities that came with being the sovereign of a nation as large as Vere. 

Still, she continued walking religiously every afternoon through the gardens to have so much deserved time for herself. Her reserved nature craved for solitude and space to think. Specially while dealing with politicians on a daily basis.

That day though, the queen was on her usual stroll when her routine was interrupted. The queen wasn’t particularly bothered though since the interruption came in the form of her three year old son who had somehow wandered outside, toddling almost regally.

The little boy was a mirage of Hennike, his light hair and chubby cheeks were like miniature versions of his mother’s golden locks and defined cheekbones. Both her sons resembled her, but Auguste had inherited his father’s broad back and dimpled smile. Laurent, well, he could as well have been Hennike herself pulled out of moment buried in the past.

The mother stopped her wandering to wait for the boy to catch up to her, amused at the seriousness the three year old’s face possessed. 

When he was born, she had been worried she had ended with a problematic kid. His wrist only bore five tally marks. It was not a terribly low number, but still astounding given the generous marks that adorned both his parents’ and elder brother’s wrists. Normally, kids who had few marks tended to be violent, rebellious and volatile; all of those characteristics undeserving of a prince. 

Against all odds, Laurent was a sweet kid. He observed people instead of interacting with them, but he never got into fights and mostly kept to himself. His curious nature was already developed at his tender age, making him problematic only for his nannies who had to keep track of him.

Laurent met his mother and flashed her a smile. Silently, he demanded the queen’s hand to hold and she obliged. The kid knew how to speak and was pretty eloquent for his age. However, he preferred to communicate with subtle gestures and body language whenever he could get away with it. He resembled his mother’s preference for silence which made them work easily, being that they understood each other instinctively.

Like this, they continued their walk peacefully, enjoying the still warm air of autumn, and the ocre colors around them. Laurent touched with his free hand everything within his reach, cataloguing the world around him, mind working fast behind his blue eyes. Hennike observed him, imprinting the mannerisms of her son on her memory, smiling softly at the boy. The royal gardens were a perfect picture, framing the domestic scene of the mother and the son in various tones of gold.

It would have been a perfect evening, thought the queen when her stroll was once again interrupted, though this time the distraction was welcomed with considerably less warmth. Theo, one of the knights on the King’s Guard intercepted the pair, causing Laurent to stop his carefree wandering. The boy got nervous, which caused him to retract instinctively back into his serious demeanor.

“Your Highness” adressed the guard respectfully, aware that his intrusion was met with annoyance. “There’s a matter requiring your immediate attention. The king demands you to meet him at his study as soon as possible.”

“I will go as soon as I get Laurent settled inside” answered the queen formally, her voice stating what she tought of the kings *demands*.

“I’m sorry my lady,” he answered “but the king asked for you to go to him the moment you received the message. I am also instructed to take the prince to his quarters”

The queen was annoyed at the antiques of her husband. The king knew better than to disturb her on her afternoon walks, which made his summoning all the more infuriating. Also she knew Laurent didn’t feel comfortable around the guards, clinging always to his brother or to her, and she refused to be relieved of her duties as a mother. 

But ultimately, she appreciated Theo, who had been in the King’s Guard since before she became queen. She decided not to cause him an unfair problem with her husband, putting her duties as a leader before her personal feelings, and conceded.

“Laurent,” she turned to say as she crouched to pick up the toddler “ I need you to go with Theo to your rooms.” Her voice was soft, but also a command that couldn’t be ignored.

The child seemed unhappy, she could tell. She ignored him and placed her son in the arms of the knight. Even if she was equally displeased, she was still the queen and she wouldn’t bow to pouty toddler lips. 

When they arrived at the doors of the castle, Laurent suddenly started squirming in Theo’s arms and trying to reach something that had caught his attention. The older man let himself be led in the direction the toddler pointed and smiled softly at the little giggles Laurent gave. Between all the guards, he was the most patient with the young prince’s antiques. The boy had captured a dandelion.

It was rare to find one this long after the summer had dawned but there it stood proudly between the little boy’s fingers. His first instinct though, wasn’t to gape in wonder at the flower or to blow on it, but turning to his mother and handing her his prize.

Hennike smiled tenderly at Laurent while she grabbed the flower. 

It was only because she was staring at her son’s hand that she saw what happened. Of Laurent’s marks, the one that crossed the other four slowly faded to a dull gray. The boy scratched at his wrist, most likely feeling a weird tingle on it and then turned away, suddenly more curious in getting back to his rooms.

There were legends of tally marks disappearing after a sincere demonstration of love, but she had never seen it happen or even heard of it. Her eyes teared up as she saw Theo disappear around the corner with the boy in his arms. She glanced at the dandelion in her hands and it was right there that she knew for sure Laurent would be fine. He was not flawed for being born with only a few tallies, but perfect in his unique Laurent way.

As she blew the dandelion she wished for her son to find someone who would match him in the purity of his love. It was a mother’s sincere desire to the fates who could have or have not been listening to her.

Either way, she turned in the direction of the king’s study and walked away.


	2. The Sword

Being a prince isn’t the same as being a Crown Prince, and Laurent was deeply grateful for that. While Auguste spent most of his time becoming a general, Laurent studied quietly on the library. His talent was to intuitively understand the nuisances of running a kingdom. He was particularly interested in everything related to trade and foreign politics. 

Still, this didn’t mean he was exempt of warrior training.

“You’re doing it wrong again Laurent” Auguste said exasperatedly.

“I don’t see you being of much help” Laurent bit back harshly.

They were on the training grounds of the castle, on the throwing ranges. Laurent was failing to wield a spear, sending it across the air trying to hit the bullseye, repeatedly failing much to his older brother’s amusement.

“Kind of the point of why I’m here, don’t you think?” he took a spear from where they were lined up behind the ten year old prince and easily threw it directly onto the bullseye. He bit back his grin, trying to not look too smug and Laurent´s expression was a testament of how much he was failing at that.

“Remember when you were learning to use the bow?”

“No, I’ve suddenly forgotten about the only weapon I’m actually good at. Of course I remember the bow Gus. It’s so not the same thing” 

“Exactly, a spear is not a bow”. The older prince took a new spear from behind him and completely ignored the scowl on Laurent’s face.

“You balance it in one hand and use your whole body for the throw. The bow requires you keep your lower body planted in a single spot, actually the contrary to what is needed here.”

The younger boy seemed to consider his brother and nodded, taking the spear from his hand. He planted himself more loosely, remembering to use his legs and threw again. His throw was more centered and the spear got stuck harder on the target. 

He grinned excitedly and Auguste laughed. 

“Maybe one day you’ll learn to listen to my supreme experience on the training grounds.”

Laurent didn’t respond but Auguste saw him swallowing a laugh. His little brother was far too contained and spent too much time on his head. Still, he wouldn’t have him any other way. He knew him better than anyone, only second to his mother, and that’s why he had been the one who had trained his little brother on using all the weapons he knew so far.

\---  
Learning to use a sword wasn’t as easy as simply adjusting a technique though.

It was almost two years after the incident with the spears that King Aleron decided he would be the one to teach his youngest son the fine art of swordsmanship.

Theo arrived at the library where the teenager had his nose stuck on a huge economy volume.

“My prince” the guard spoke loudly

“No need for formalities here Theo, I’m alone.”

“Your father wants you on the training grounds as soon as possible.” Theo sounded weary, contrary to his usually amused tone.

Laurent perked up at that. His father had never been too preoccupied with his youngest, trusting pretty much everyone else to oversee his education and care. He only acknowledged his son to point something he was doing wrong, or to recommend a new topic for him to study. He had never taken an interest on Laurent’s physical training. The training grounds was where the king spent time with his eldest son, to whom he actually acted as a father. All that considered, the prince was intrigued at the request.

“Well, better not to keep him waiting.” Laurent muttered as he got up.

They walked in silence, both used enough to the other not to be uncomfortable. Still, they weren’t friends, or family. Laurent had been drilled with this when he failed to stick to formalities. In private, he mostly treated Theo as a relative, being that he was such a close friend with his mother. But walking in the castle, he maintained his princely attitude, no matter how stupid he thought it to be. That didn’t stop Theo from giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before parting on the doors to the training grounds.

Aleron was already there, overseeing the men training, offering corrections whenever he spotted a mistake. Laurent took the moment before he was spotted to study his father.

He was a tall man, with broad shoulders built from years of wielding a sword. His beard was perfectly trimmed, framing his serious face and hiding his wrinkles beneath a brunette coat. 

“Laurent” he called. “I’ve decided it’s time for you to begin training with a sword. Your brother begged me to do it himself, but I think it’s time for you to get out of his shadow, don’t you think?”

“That sounds reasonable father.” To him, that sounded like a threat.

Laurent moved carefully, approaching his father as one would approach a bear. The king had his hand outstretched with a training sword on it. The teenager took it and before he had time to react, he had been thrown on his back. 

“First lesson, never leave your guard open.” Aleron seemed far too pleased with having Laurent lying on his back.

He got quickly to his feet and held the sword trying to imitate his father’s grip. When the king didn’t strike, he swung the sword trying to get a hit, which the king easily blocked. They exchanged a few more simple blows.

“Keep track of your feet, you need to be able to react, either going forward or backwards.”

Laurent positioned himself with a wider stance and in the instant it took to get on his guard again, the king disarmed him. Again.

“Focus on your enemy, at all times. If you lose focus, you are death.”

At this point, Laurent started to get angry. He struck harder and became clumsier. The next time Aleron made a feint to get into his guard, the prince unloaded all his strength on the counterstrike which made him lose his balance and end on his knees. This time, all by his own making.

“That would be the most important lesson” the king’s voice had become sharper “you lose your temper, and you are death.”

It was all made worse by the keen satisfaction that shone on Aleron’s eyes; as if he had proven a point. It was a deeply unfair fight and he knew it. It was also obvious he had no intention to actually teach Laurent anything useful.

“It does not matter either way, does it father?” the prince felt humiliated, which made him get defensive. “My place is as an advisor, I don’t have any reason to step foot on a battlefield, except to broker a peace agreement. I don’t see why I should waste my time here.”

He should have expected the blow, but it was the first time his father had hit him. The shame was bigger than the pain though.

“I know you are useless on a battlefield, but I hoped maybe I could get you to act like a man Laurent. Once again, you are a disappointment; if something happens to Auguste, my kingdom is doomed.”

The teenage prince hardened his expression while he listened to his father. He schooled himself and forced the tears prickling at his eyes to remain unshed. There was no outward sign of his heart breaking, his face a perfect image of resolve.

“I have never intended to be a king, and I don’t get what is the great deal about being a man either. But if that is the way you feel about me, you can drop the pretense now about being my father. That way, you are no longer disappointed and I am no longer obliged to love you”

The look Aleron directed at him was so full of disdain and rejection that Laurent was genuinely afraid of the consequences. But the king just turned away and left. Just as the king’s back was facing him, Laurent felt the skin on his wrist start to tickle.

“No, it can’t be.” The prince muttered as he saw one of his tally marks start to fade to gray. He had intended the opposite with his tirade. He had wanted to vanish the king from his heart. But he had also admitted out loud to loving his father, saying the words even if not in the traditional manner.

Sometimes, the worst thing about having awful parents is that even when we are trying to get rid of them, we love them. 

Laurent had now proof.


	3. The Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night before the battle of Marlas, and the princes of Vere are busy with war preparations, working seamlessly side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes with a special dedication to vaskianmountains. Your comment gave me the encouragement I needed to finish this, so thanks a lot.

There are some things that one always keeps close to their chest, like dark terrible secrets that can never be expressed in the light of day. Jealousy is one of the worst of them, because it is petty and not useful at all, it is not logical. Sometimes Laurent felt jealous, and he knew with a conscious mind how stupid it was, but he felt it nonetheless. 

Right now— like most times— they were directed at his older brother, which made the feeling worse because Laurent loved Auguste with all his heart. It was not his fault that Laurent was clumsy, and bookish, that he had problems opening a conversation. It was not his fault that sometimes speaking felt like a terrible chore, or that grand arrangements of people felt so terrifying to him. 

But Auguste was a natural at them, which made Laurent jealous, and he hated himself for it. Especially in this dire circumstances when his petty feelings weren’t relevant at all. They were on a battlefield! There wasn’t time for juvenile feelings as the two princes were walking through the soldier’s tents overseeing battle preparations. 

Auguste was walking as every inch the future king he was. He strode leisurely and with purpose, barking orders without having to shout, everyone quieted at the sight of him. Also, he never stayed to watch his orders being fulfilled, he knew he was going to be obeyed. At his young age he had already won the trust of this men who would tomorrow follow him onto battle to fight for Delfeur. 

Laurent was a shadow for his brother everywhere he went, most like in Arles. He tried to act as if he was terribly interested in the drills taking place between the soldiers, or the general’s strategy discussion, but behind his stone cold façade, the young prince was seething with rage and jealousy. Rage at Akielos for making him be in this horrific circumstances where he had to be on the sun having his fair skin charred and surrounded by a crowd of boisterous soldiers. But also jealousy of how at home Auguste looked, the younger brother had never felt that at peace or in his element outside of research, and it was not fair. 

Nonetheless, the day advanced quickly, with last minute arrangements and dire negotiations that were taking place even when everyone knew that peace was not an option. Veretians were always political, and needed to establish advantages and favors every time the winds were changing. At least in this arena, Laurent had some sort of input he could share, given that he was well versed in economics, borders and royal favors.

“When you’re done with that, could you spare me a minute?” Auguste spoke surprising Laurent who was bent on studying a map.

“Sure”

Laurent took in all the information he could from the map, making a few mental notes that he could suggest to his brother concerning escape routes on horseback (which was something he actually had a grasp on), and then didn’t bother on folding neatly the papers and promptly left the tent he had been in the past hour. 

Auguste was lying against a post of his tent, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes wandering fast through the camp. His muscles were bunched up with tension and his lips were pursed tight. Even if his kingly nature was something he naturally had, his little brother saw how terrified he was, how much the lives of his people weighed on his shoulders. He stood by his side, not forcing him to look him in the eyes or even talk, pressing his arm against his brother’s in silent companionship.

Auguste took a deep breath and then released it, as if he had been going to say something but then decided it wasn’t worth it. He instead started walking knowing his brother would follow, and didn’t stop until he was in front of their horses. Laurent mounted and before his brother could react, he galloped away. The older man snapped out of his somber mood and laughed while he rushed to catch up to his brother.

“When I catch you little bastard you are so dead!”

“Grand of you to think you could catch me!”

Both brothers rode not very far away from camp, knowing they weren’t safe enough to be boyish and wander around. After all, the were in the eve of the battle of their lives. Still, they were young, especially Laurent; and as he strode away from the camp, his muscles started to relax, and his frown lessened. He looked more like a boy in the cusp of being a teenager than a tiny prince. 

Auguste on the other side, started tensing his muscles, looking around, watching for shadows hidden in the bushes. 

“We should go back Laurent” he spoke like he was afraid of being heard.

“It’s okay Gus, we are barely half a mile away, Akielons wouldn’t be as stupid as to come here”

The elder prince did nothing to correct the assumption, even if he knew it was the cockiness of a smart but still naive child. 

“I wish to speak with you in private brother”

Laurent dismounted after he enunciated his request. As Auguste knew his men would follow him into battlefield, he knew his elder brother would always follow him.

They both sat on the grass, their sides brushing against one another. Auguste had crossed his legs, balancing easily both of their weights as Laurent was resting against him with one leg extended before him, and his head posed over his other knee.

Even if the younger one had asked for his brother, he took a long time to speak and Auguste relished in those moments of stillness. 

“I fear for you Gus”, the child stated 

“As I do…”

“But not only for the battle, but what happens next. What if we lose?” That seemed as a reasonable concern.

“Or if we don’t?”

Auguste pondered this for a while, the wind brushing their blond heads.

“If we win, then we will need to settle the territory and fast, Akielos won’t let us win peacefully” he sighed as he thought of how much time he would spend on the border trying to settle both the habitants of Delpheur and the courts of Arles. “But if we do, you could stay with me, and help me with border duty, there is no one I trust more for this task…”

Laurent said nothing, but the point of his ears was a telling red at the compliment.

“If we lose though…” Auguste took a breath in, wanting to vanish the thought out of his mind.

“I guess we would have to deal with it as best as we can, and especially then you would be the one I would trust more to watch my back”

He turned to look at the younger prince, but he wasn’t looking at his eyes, but at his wrist, where two tally marks had just vanished from his wrist at the declaration of his trust (and his love).

“I love you too Gus”

That was how the third mark on Laurent’s wrist vanished, just as the last private moment he ever shared with his brother.


	4. The Wound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry it has taken me so much to update this. I'm not in love with this chapter and it took a lot out of me to write but finally I've decided to post it so we can move on. Thanks a lot to the ones who comment, they give me hope to keep doing this. I'm going through a breakup right now and I don't know when I'll have the energy to write again so I am sorry in advance and thank you for being patient with me and taking the time to explore this idea with me. I love you all!
> 
> **** VERY IMPORTANT! THIS CHAPTER DEALS WITH THE REGENT´S ABUSE, SO IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BE CAREFUL**

After the battle of Marlas was over, the Venetian army started their long journey back to Arles. It was quiet, with soldiers abandoning the company little by little to return to their homes. Somber faces and stormy eyes met every province, extending the news way before an official statement was released. Defeat adorned the tents wherever they stopped to rest, and an unsurmountable grief. 

After all, the people of Vere had lost their king.

Worse than that…

They had lost Prince Auguste, the golden heir, who had rode this very roads days before, filled with confidence, each line of his body exuding authority. Politicians will later describe his shoulders as set on stone, shouldering responsibly every duty. But his people agreed on one incredible feat for a member of nobility: he had kindness in his wise blue eyes. 

And while the people mourned the loss of their kind golden prince, the palace accounted another loss which was subtler and perhaps more dangerous even: the younger prince Laurent arrived with dark sunken eyes, lost, as if only a shell of himself remained. He received condolences, some pampering for the staff of the castle…

It was as if the boy was dead. He barely ate, slept most of the day.

Three months after the tragic defeat, the prince had yet to utter a word.  
\--------------------------------------

 

Theo was the one to coax the first words out of Laurent. While the palace had not mourned their king much, being gladly ruled by his brother, who was smarter, less temperamental, more keen to play into politics and gain favors. More Veretian. In comparison, Aleron seemed a brute.

Theo had never liked Aleron, but he had loved being a soldier. It was an honor to serve in a position as important as being the King’s Guard. When the king died, the Regent had disintegrated the guard and assigned them elsewhere, but Theo had stayed in the palace, claiming that he desired more than anything to train the Prince’s Guard, to make it up to Aleron’s standards. More than anything, he wanted to make sure Laurent was fine.

“Your mother taught me to read Laurent… but I never quite understood why she liked it so much.” He was in the library with the boy, as he was everyday when his shift was over. It had become a routine that the old guard looked always forward to, even if it was mostly just silently reading side by side with the prince.

“She said books were doorways. Is like she jumped into a boat and sailed away, far from whatever storm was currently brewing in your father’s court.” Laurent shifted awkwardly at the mention of Aleron as he always did. 

“I think after this months I am starting to understand… It’s easier not to be here all the time isn’t it?”

Laurent was watching him as he always did while he spoke. Theo had given up in getting a response to his questions, so when the prince answered with voice raspy from disuse, Theo flinched from the surprise.

“Gus didn’t like to read either, but he did with me…” 

And that was all. Tears streamed from the boy’s face and Theo wiped them carefully, feeling the same fondness he had felt for his mother rush through him.

“He loved you, you know?”

Laurent didn’t answer.

\--------------------------------

 

 

The gifts started innocently, with a book. Jord mentioned it to Theo in training. The man had been Auguste’s friend, not only a member of his guard, so Theo had taken him under his wing, pitching him and fighting for his position on Laurent’s guard, even if Jord was weary of the boy, he was an honest man. And he noticed things, even if he wasn’t really good at understanding patterns and hidden motives.

The book was a novel, the kind Laurent favored, filled with adventures, and fantasy. It was from his uncle, which at first felt like an attempt to reach out to the grieving twelve year old.

Then the gifts started flowing more constantly. A golden cup, an embroidered blue chemise, riding leathers of the finest quality…

Theo noticed that with each gift, Laurent talked a little bit more. He was happy his uncle remembered him even if he was so busy running his kingdom for him. Theo was worried the boy felt indebted to him.

Then the gifts were delivered by the Regent himself, on the afternoons, when the guard shifted he came to give trinkets to his nephew. They started being simple exchanges with quiet “thank you’s” and then they turned into small conversations.

“It’s a lovely evening outside nephew, you should join me for a walk”

“Yes uncle”

Theo followed them at a distance every time he could. While everyone saw their relationship as an adorable expression of family love, Theo had hears too many rumors of what happened in the Regent’s chambers to feel entirely comfortable with this new development.  
\---------------------------

 

 

“I heard the most strange of stories from the Vaskian delegations, would you wish to hear it nephew?”

Laurent nodded his head, his eyes fixed on his uncle.

“They said the queen keeps twin jaguars chained to her throne”

“What for?”

“Imagine coming to see the queen, finding two powerful beasts who are ready to slit your throat… and they are peacefully eating from her hands, as docile kittens…”

That was no concrete answer but Laurent understood perfectly. He liked his uncle didn’t explained everything to him, letting him analyze and think for himself, it made him want to impress him by his ability to keep up. Laurent felt his uncle considered him as smart as an adult.

“You must be tired… let me accompany to your chambers”

“I am not” he pouted, wanting to continue the conversation

“Laurent… I would not like for you to be all tired tomorrow, I am just looking after you.”

“I’m sorry” the boy felt ashamed.

“No harm done my boy, I know you are not just a bratty child, you can be reasoned with.”

The praise felt sour but Laurent took it, because after all his uncle was always right, and he was glad he was so kind to him. His father had never been interested, so the boy relished on the attention. His uncle grabbed him by the waist, and Laurent soaked every warmth he could get. And when the Regent kissed his cheek as goodnight and left his hand longer than strictly necessary on his cheek, well, Laurent was too touched starved to think of it as strange.

But Theo wasn’t.

The old guard crossed eyes with the man as he left the prince’s chamber, not quite able to masquerade his disgust at what was so clear to him.

“Problem Captain?” The Regent felt too assured in his power to expect a reply.

“I served King Aleron faithfully for almost thirty years. I was personally assigned with Queen Hennike’s security the day she arrived on the palace, not much older than prince Auguste when he… died” 

The Regent’s eyes were stripped bare of any masks, his eyes pure ice and danger, but Theo kept talking.

“When the Queen died, she made me swear to protect his sons, above anything and everything”

“You failed spectacularly with the eldest one, Captain” his shoulders were slightly bent forward, and his voice was tinged with venom.

“I know, so I won’t fail with the younger one. It does not matter to me who is the one to threaten him.”

It was as forward as the guard would make his threat, but it was enough. He did not feel the knife going into his gut. When he touched the floor, Theo was already dead.

\----------------------------------

 

 

 

The Regent’s efforts paid off when the day after a tentative knock came on his door. Laurent was there, his eyes puffy and red, his stance small and scared. 

“Can I sleep here, uncle?”

It couldn’t have been more perfect. 

Laurent would in his adult years have hazy memories of that night and many others that followed. He ran for comfort, for soft touches and warm smiles he used to receive from his brother. His uncle caressed him and talked a little, but he was different, he rationalized. The younger prince felt awkward lying with the older man, and many requests his uncle made were uncomfortable for him, but maybe it was a small price to pay for being comforted, for not feeling so alone. 

What drove him that night was Theo’s dead. He was his mother’s friend, and as close as an uncle he had from his mother. So he searched comfort from the Regent and if he demanded to be comforted in return, it seemed fair to the boy’s mind. He was a bother to the man, and he was taking valuable time to soothe his childish needs. That’s what his uncle always said, although his words were more covered in sugar.

It lasted almost two years.

“You should not come here anymore Laurent”

“Why not uncle?” The teen was desperate, he couldn’t lose his uncle like he had lost everyone else. Except this was worse. In the last weeks the Regent had slowly been alienating him, he wanted nothing to do with him. He was being abandoned, disposed of…

“I love you uncle..” His wrist tingled while his heart broke.

“Love is for children nephew. And you are no longer a child.” His uncle’s eyes were devoid of emotion when he said “Get out”.

It was the last time he visited his uncle’s chambers.


End file.
